


Here's Donnie

by woundmetender



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woundmetender/pseuds/woundmetender
Summary: A collection of Daryl x Connie oneshots.
Relationships: Connie & Daryl Dixon, Connie/Daryl Dixon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Here's Donnie

**Author's Note:**

> So, I asked for some prompts on my Tumblr blog and got a couple of responses. The first one was sent in by micaela-arg: Daryl and Connie meeting because Dog keeps sneaking out of Daryl's backyard and Daryl follows him one day and finds that Dog's got a double life with Connie, his neighbor from down the street.

The dishes piled up and snuck up on Daryl in a towering form before he knew it, unconsciously adding to the rising obstruction by placing a bowl to the top of it. It managed to reach his chest level, staring at him boldly, _daring_ him to make some kind of move. He shouldn’t have let it get to this intensity, but he squinted back at it through hooded eyes, the whistle from _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ resounding through his ears. If there were any space between him and the sink, a tumbleweed would’ve floated right across his kitchen and added to the circumstances of how detrimental this showdown would be. The tale of Brute versus Dishes always explained the relationship between masculinity and cleanliness.

No, Daryl Dixon was not a slob, but he focused his energy on other things going on in his life. Sure, the list remained limited to his bike, truck, and archery practice, but the house chores eventually got done. It’s not like he spent much time at home anyway for him to notice how bad it got. He actually scarfed down some cereal to hold him over for the next few hours, but he could no longer put this off. Not when it was glaring at him point blank and threatening to draw its gun and shoot him straight to the ground without a hint of mercy.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Approaching the leaning tower of plate-a, he stepped forward and turned the knob to run hot water, giving it time to heat up and fill the other side of the sink. This one remained untouched from dirt and grime, water rising about halfway with the addition of dish soap he would also be adding to his rag nearby. Just as he poured the viscous liquid over the cloth, he caught sight of his dog’s tail through the window.

The animal’s head poked through a hole at the bottom of his fence, his backside wiggling from one side to the next until he disappeared behind the board and left Daryl blinking in astonishment. Daryl reacted accordingly, pushing the soap and towel onto the counter and then walking out the back door to see where the hell the damn dog thought he was off to. In recent weeks, Daryl came home to find the creature gone, worried until morning when he decided to return.

It puzzled Daryl, unable to make sense of how Dog was getting out after thoroughly inspecting his yard one night, but this time, he caught him in the act. Red pawed and everything, in a figurative sense.

Daryl wasted little to no time in following, walking fast until he staggered right behind Dog. His boots gave his close distance away, however, Dog turning to look and immediately _bolting_ down the sidewalk. He never behaved this way, so Daryl found himself to be shocked by the happenstance, but he quickly pulled himself together and started to run down the concrete to chase after. He didn’t want to promote any fear in Dog, but he also didn’t want to lose sight and go home without him. Dog’s trips to the outside were too frequent for Daryl to believe this was a coincidence, most likely heading to a place of solace and where he felt at most peace.

“Dog,” Daryl grunted out, trying to take an authoritative tone through his current panting, but it wasn’t of any use. It seemed to prompt Dog to up his pace and sprint, causing Daryl to do the same. A tall fence came into his peripheral, the posts shifting as he went down it and suddenly Dog turned a rather sharp corner when it ended.

Somehow, Daryl’s boots’ grip passed the test successfully in not skidding across the pavement, but as he ran into the direction that Dog did, his shoes came in contact with wet grass. This time, he slid and broke tufts of grass into the air as he sank down into heavy mud, sprinklers blasting him with water. He skimmed the top of the yard, dirt covering his pants, shirt, and arms. His anger rose as mud painted his facial features, such he couldn’t clean with his hands since they were also completely gloved by the mess. His eyes searched the sky, the sun blinding him to the point of where he needed to squint and lift a hand to shadow his visage.

He was livid, absolutely far gone. Dog’s face appearing with his tongue hanging out did not help any and Daryl almost stood up and grabbed him by the collar to drag him home.

_Almost._

Another face appeared by Dog’s, this one being that of a human and belonging to a female. A human female, so to speak. She blocked the sun, but the light from behind silhouetted her ringlets of curls tied back by a golden bandana, the illusion of her figure glowing above. Her eyebrows were furrowed, an expression of concern on her features melting away the fury in Daryl’s. In its place, wonder came into fruition, the first time he saw a woman so…

What the hell was going on? Where was he? Did he hit his head on the way down?

Gradually, he shifted himself up onto his elbows, the woman stepping backwards to give him some space. The sprinklers stopped some time ago, it just dawning on Daryl that she most likely saw him basically eat shit when he biffed it hard in her front yard. He assumed it was hers anyways since she resided there in stance. It just went to show how he really had no connections with his neighborhood. They often steered clear of Daryl, but this is the first time he saw _her_. No, he definitely would’ve remembered her.

Dog’s tongue swiped at the mud on his cheek, Daryl sneering and nudging the animal away from him. A whine came from Dog in response.

“Serves ya’ right, this is your fault,” Daryl muttered bitterly. He looked up to see the woman covering her mouth behind her hand. She probably wanted to laugh, but didn’t because it was evident that Daryl wasn’t having a very good day. The fact that Dog added insult to injury did not corroborate with his starstruck mood.

Hoisting himself to his feet, Daryl tried to wipe mud off himself and appear more presentable, but the practice came in futile attempts. He swung his arms in front of himself, wondering what her first impression of him was turning out to be since he basically saw her bathing in light, the sole thing missing from the picturesque view being a pair of angel wings. For sure, they saw each other differently. What confused him further was the way Dog padded behind her and then she scratched right behind his ears. It didn’t take a genius to see that Dog was coming here every time he decided to run off.

“Sorry about your garden… Was chasin’ my dog to bring him back home and I just ended up fallin’.” He said, but he felt distracted. The sun in the sky hit her nose and highlighted her freckles, reddish dots contrasting the dark, rich tone of her skin. He barely registered the fact that she raised her hand up to motion for him to wait. Though for what, he had no clue.

 _This is your dog?_ came up into the air on a jasper notepad. From the looks of it where Daryl stood, she chose to write in the middle of it, automatically telling a story of how she most likely wrote in countless pages before it. As to why she communicated in pen and ink, he didn’t have the chance to ask. He nodded his head at most to confirm and then she pointed to her ears as if she read his mind.

“Oh… erm… sorry. I’ll just take my dog and go,” he murmured. He felt a bit sheepish in a way, never finding himself lost in embarrassment because he unabashedly remained who he was no matter what. It’s just that her eyes are so warm, her smile the very same that he cannot fathom why he’s feeling self conscious. It couldn’t get worse than tripping, falling into mud, and probably offending her, could it? His nerves seemed to think so since prior life experience taught him that it could _always_ get worse.

As he turned to gain Dog’s attention, the woman placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at her in that instant, watched as she wrote something new and fresh on the same page asking if Dog was his.

 _Come inside and get cleaned up,_ made his mouth go dry, no real room for argument since she gestured for him to follow her as she made her way up the steps of her front porch. She disappeared behind her front door, leaving Daryl to fidget with the idea of taking Dog and getting out of there to not have any further critical scrutiny.

When he realized how ridiculous and almost cowardly that sounded, he shifted his weighted legs and trudged up the steps, mud tracking the wood. He flinched at the trail, entering the home not helping at all either since he brought mud to the floor, too. Dog whined at the door and Daryl attempted to decipher what to do, unsure of where to go from there. He spotted her shoes nearby and then saw her head peek from a wall. She pointed down towards them, his head following her finger in the air and grunted his displeasure when he realized what she wanted. Nevertheless, he removed his dirty boots and laid them on their cleaner side to avoid ruining her floor as he did the outside. Padding in his socks, he walked over and turned the corner he saw her face at, soon standing in a spotless kitchen immediately making him feel completely out of place.

 _The bathroom is down the hall,_ was written on her notepad so he moved from there and walked to find it. Fortunately, on his first try of opening a door and cautiously gazing inside, he found the bathroom and entered carefully. There was no way to not leave mud on the knob, so he cursed in his head as he washed his hands up to his elbows to get rid of the mess. He coated the sink in slimy dirt and stubborn pebbles, trying his best to use the faucet's water to clean off what he managed to leave behind. Doing this would probably hurt her drain or her pipes, so he again felt a halo of guilt surrounding the circumference of his head. He could feel it tightening as he walked along the tile and saw bits of soil falling from his denim pants.

When he finished (with extra spot cleaning before) he exited the bathroom and went back to the kitchen where he first saw her upon exploring her house. She turned her body from where she leaned on one counter, her facial expression as bright as it had been outside. Though, she seemed to be amused by something. Her head shook back and forth as she stared at him, Daryl anxiously switching a majority of his weight from his left to his right foot.

The woman gracefully moved from her sink and went to him, a washcloth in her hands that she clearly wet under the faucet. She kept a soft grin as she boldly closed the space between them, her nose almost bumping his. Daryl stopped himself from stepping backwards in surprise, tensing up when she neared and used the cloth in her hand to run over his cheek. Warmth touched his facial features as she dabbed away the dirt collected there, the scent of lavender and earth filling his nostrils. It masked the moisture and soil he gave off, sure the distraction came off of her in their close proximity. He tried to count in his head to calm himself, but he wound up counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose and cheeks instead. Daryl attempted to find the subtle dissimilarities between each one from size to hyperpigmentation, but he ended up meeting her focused eyes. Those irises were colored chestnut, emboldened by her long lashes that practically swept her cheekbones as she blinked slowly. All her goddamn attention rested on him and yet, she had not noticed the study he engaged in with her as the subject. 

When she concluded her mission in removing what he missed from subconsciously avoiding his reflection in the mirror, she examined his face one last time and then backed away much to his chagrin. He didn’t enjoy having people so close to him, but once his nerves settled, he welcomed her touch. Why did this happen with such a total stranger? He wasn’t so forgiving when it came to it, but he read her well and she had been nothing but kind up until this point despite how he was sure he fucked up her petunias. He most likely smashed a few on his way when he used her yard as a personal slide, but she gave off this amiable aura as if he wore a cape and demolished a super villain in her honor. In actuality, he left bootprints around and dripped clay everywhere. Not to mention the responsibility of looking after his wandering dog that befell her shoulders, their connection being too close and friendly for it to be some coincidence. In a way, relief spread throughout him that Dog was safe on his escapades.

“Thank you,” he said, ensuring she saw the movement of his lips. He tried to convey he meant his gratitude for both her treatment and her watch over his pet through his body language. She waved it off in a literal fashion, dropping the dirty rag into the sink. She retook her spot leaning against it as she wrote something new in her notepad.

 _Anything for my favorite dog’s owner,_ came up, making him snort and run a hand through his hair. He felt tangles resist his digits and that caused him to stop immediately. It would’ve been awkward if he brought his hand down and displayed umber strands wrapped around his fingers. He’d look more distorted than he already did.

“Yeah right, think you would’ve helped out no matter what. I appreciate it… And I’m sorry about outside. Didn’t mean to fuck it all up.” He watched as she went back to write something else, arms crossing over his chest a moment as he waited.

He felt his nerves start to build back up in trying to anticipate her response before it raised up into the air for him to read. She, on the other hand, seemed so relaxed. The prospect of communication didn’t bring her head down or have her wrestling with mannerisms to fill the time in between. She didn’t even seem rushed when it came down to what she was writing. It just flowed well, her pen never lifting off the paper for a second, but her thoughts most likely swirled and bumped the walls of her mind with how she didn’t scribble carelessly. She thought about it while doing it. It showed him she was an agile thinker.

_It’s okay. You can help me fix it._

He must’ve got stuck in his head because two simple sentences on the page had him analyze too long. Again, she didn’t write too fast or too slow, but the time where the two of them existed slowed down. He got the chance to observe her and put together assumptions. That’s not to say he judged people right off the bat without getting to know them (a majority of them fucking sucked anyway) but it was as if he knew her longer than half an hour.

They were strangers. But she invited him back by saying that he could provide the succor necessary in rectifying the damage he did. Something he agreed to without speaking, nodding his head and chewing on his lips out of pure habit. See, his mind remained on her and her distinct, contrasting attributes of striking brows, doe eyes, soft cupid’s bow, and auburn beauty marks while his body did the talking without truly finding thoughts on their conversation. How was she so easy and so difficult to speak to at the same time? Maybe it was because her lashes could flutter mesmerizingly _and_ her smile could dazzle with its beaming intensity.

Broken from whatever spell she had on him, Dog whined outside again. He was whining this whole time actually. Daryl was failing to notice because he kept getting stuck on her, and for what reason he didn’t know. If his brother were here, he’d laugh right in his face over it. This never happened to him. He quickly put together the difference between good and bad people through short amounts of time, but here this woman stood to have him second guessing. Maybe he had changed from the man he was a decade ago, too, but he read her hopefully and didn’t feel naive for it.

“I should get goin’. I’ll be by to help tomorrow if you’re free… uh…” Shit, he was surmising so much in this interaction and he hadn’t even learned her name. _Now_ his brother would for sure laugh his ass off.

 _Connie_ , she wrote, leaving him feeling a bit better, followed by, _Tomorrow works._

“Great… I’ll see you.” He said and walked to the door. She went behind him, the lighting changing as he got closer to the window and bent down to put on his boots. The sun was going down, behind his head to silhouette him this time as he turned back and cleared his throat shyly.

“M’Daryl by the way,” he muttered, realizing he should’ve told her his name a lot earlier than he did. She didn’t seem to mind, pointing to Dog through the glass door who almost looked like he was grinning as his tongue hung out of his mouth.

“Mm… his name’s Dog. Just Dog.” Wow, this just kept getting more embarrassing. She didn’t move to grab her notepad, though. There were no signs of judgement on her face either. He liked that.

He waved goodbye and left from the home, looking back to see she was watching the two leave from the porch. Dog nuzzled Daryl’s side and this time, Daryl gave in and brought a hand through Dog’s fur. The animal relished in the contact, Daryl catching it through a pleased hum that vibrated through his body and to his hand. Dog should’ve been scolded or something for the stunt he pulled, but Daryl didn’t seem to muster any effort up to do so. Instead, he pet and he pet, murmuring something about Dog being a “good boy.”


End file.
